


Shy Girl

by FolleDeJoie



Category: Original Work
Genre: Erotica, F/F, Non-binary character, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Other, Trans Character, Vaginal Fingering, look sometimes you just need to vent your passions okay, romantic, soft erotica
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 09:37:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21097322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FolleDeJoie/pseuds/FolleDeJoie
Summary: "-Instead of her boy’s sharp edges, Maxine found herself instead looking at the curve of a girl’s cupid’s bow, caught herself imagining the ways that she could hold onto a soft pair of thighs. She especially noticed the way that the butch dykes that she saw on T.V. made her face heat up and grip her dress a little tighter as she wondered what it would feel like to be beneath that source of power."A soft erotica piece surrounding a young woman's fantasy, featuring cheesy introductions and a lot of oral.(I'm pretty bad at summaries and this is my first upload here, sorry!)





	Shy Girl

Maxine had always been a shy girl.

Maybe that hadn’t always been the case, at least not until she entered the barren lands of the pre-teen existence. Inquisitive and lively, she’d embellished all the traits you’d look for in a happy and healthy child. The year that the first signs of acne and weight gain crept upon her had changed all of that, hormones changing the fabric of her mind and leaving her itching from unfounded frustration.

The moment that she’d gone to the bathroom only to find a pale slither of red on the toilet roll, she’d gone into her mothers’ bedroom and rested her head on her chest while she spoke in soft tones of how this was normal, how she was growing up to be a woman, how there was nothing to be worried about. She had huddled her beneath the covers and stroked her hair soothingly as the young girl had cried, overwhelmed that the body she had only just begun to know had already started transforming once again. When she looks back on that moment in her twenties, she can see that she had been grieving for something she hadn’t thought she could lose.

That moment had broken the floodgates, the changes coming quicker than ever: her hair became a greasy mess if she didn’t wash it once a day, thick hair sprouted under her arms and between her legs, her moods flickered like a light-switch. It had been the weight, however, that impacted her the most. Where her stomach once was there appeared a black hole that she couldn’t fill no matter how much she ate, and the shame that she couldn’t shift whenever her disgruntled mother took her to buy new clothes.

She would get home from school and find comfort in the hearty meals that her mother prepared, the hidden stash of chocolate in her bedroom, the thick milkshakes she would make at midnight when only the owls and bats were around to judge her.

The vicious cycle of shame and comfort was one that followed her until the start of her twenties, but one that she found she could play off with a few self-deprecating jokes and coy remarks. The shy, fat teen that she had been slowly transformed into a confident, curvy young woman who would look in the mirror and admire the way her hourglass seemed to distract people from her love-handles and the rolls beneath her breasts. She felt like a magician with all the optical illusions she would use to distort the reality of her. She couldn’t look at herself naked, but she could make the people around her laugh, and in the silences that followed she thought that might be better after all.

She had always found the attention of boys to be a source of excitement. She loved the way that she learned to flirt after a few drinks at a party. She could even overlook the tightening in her belly as they leaned over her with sour breath and slurred words that made her giggly and nauseous.

She had never really enjoyed the act of sex as much as the movies and magazines told her she would, but she could look past the sweat-drenched bodies of the men above her and the way that they were never very gentle with her, in search of what she really wanted: a connection, an intimate moment in time where the alcohol and adrenaline reached a crescendo that left her feeling confident, and sexy, and _wanted_.

In her mid-twenties, when the girl faded into the background and the woman emerged onto the scene, she found herself growing tired of the boys, and the alcohol, and the tingles of shame that would appear when she was lying in another bed remembering what she had done the night before. She instead began to admire how she filled out and dipped in at just the right places that she had seen on other women. With her cultivated confidence, Maxine had noticed her fantasies and desires shifting as she realised that they were finally in the realm of possibility.

Instead of her boy’s sharp edges, Maxine found herself instead looking at the curve of a girl’s cupid’s bow, caught herself imagining the ways that she could hold onto a soft pair of thighs. She especially noticed the way that the butch dykes that she saw on T.V. made her face heat up and grip her dress a little tighter as she wondered what it would feel like to be beneath that source of power, to ride on top of them as tattooed arms held her waist and pinched her nipples.

Her fantasies often bordered on the mundane, but she was a romantic at heart and she would always cycle around to her favourite:

sitting down at a dive bar in her favourite red dress and ordering a drink, a butch boi eyes her from the other side of the counter. They would have their shirt-sleeves rolled up just enough so that she could shyly glance at the black swirls and shapes of their tattoos, and they would have a mischievous grin plastered on as they realised that she’d been looking.

She’d blush and tuck wayward strands of hair behind her ear, turning back to her drink with a small smile hidden at the corner of her lips. They would down their own drink and wander over to where she was sat, asking if the stool beside her was taken, draping their leather jacket over it when she quirked her brow and cheekily replied ‘_no_’. She would lean her head on her hand and flutter her lashes at them, biting her lip to keep from laughing at the terrible puns and jokes that they made throughout the night.

By the end of the evening they would both be pleasantly buzzed but still mostly sober, and their stools would have gravitated towards each other until they were breathing each other’s air. They would tentatively place their hand on her thigh and look into her eyes with that same mischievous grin, but there would be something soft in their face: the opportunity to say no and there be no hard feelings, the heartbreakingly unspoken suggestion that they could continue this another time.

She would smile and place her hand on theirs, stroking the scar-toughened skin of their knuckles gently with her thumb. Their responding smile would melt her heart as they showed off the dimples in their cheeks, and they would ask the waiter for the tab so quickly that she wouldn’t be able to contain her giggles.

They would end up at her butch boi’s apartment that felt like her old dorm room: too many empty plates and half-drunk mugs of coffee littering every available surface, a collection of vinyls haphazardly thrown on top of their small T.V. Their sheets would be already rumpled as she sat down nervously on the edge of the bed while they puttered about trying to figure out which record to put on.

_‘I hope you don’t mind the classics’_ they would say with a teasing waggle of their brows, and she a surprised laughed would rip from her chest when the opening bars of Marvin Gaye flowed through the speakers, and no, she didn’t mind one bit.

Then they would be looking at each other. Her gorgeous boi with scary tattoos and a piercing above their left eyebrow would be staring down at her as they tried to find the words to say. She would smile and pat the space next to her and they would casually drop down onto it with an over-exaggerated sigh, pulling her down to lay next to them as she giggled and squirmed to find the right space beside them.

She would end up cradled on her side, her head resting on their chest as one of their arms wrapped around her shoulders, mooring her in the sensation of the other playing with her hair, their eyes roaming over her face and landing on her lips.

_‘I have to say, I’m not usually on my back this early on’_ she would say. They would let out an incredulous snort, and then they would be kissing her as if she was something pristine and soft.

She would sigh through her nose and cup their face, run her fingers through the fuzz of their shaved hair, and she would think _yes, this is it, this is what I’ve been waiting for_. They would moan and she would feel it rumble through where their bodies were pressed together. She would shift so that she was on top, her thighs tense and bearing the brunt of her weight as she straddled their lap, groaning as they squeezed the softness at her hips.

She would move one of her hands to glide across their firm chest, feeling the ridges of a sports-bra underneath their shirt while she planted the other beside their head to keep balance. She would feel the rumble once more, and their wandering hands slip from her hips down to where her knees lay on either side of them. They would slide their rough fingers under her dress and bunch it up at her waist. She would sigh at the feel of their callouses gliding across the sensitive skin of her inner thighs teasingly while her body automatically made small downwards thrusts. They would reply by rocking upwards causing them both to let out embarrassing noises, and they would pull away from the kiss to laugh and look at each other. They would both be panting as if they’d run a mile, and it would only make her smile wider.

When they’d both calmed down, she would catch her boi’s signature grin that screamed trouble and before she knew it she would be manhandled off their lap in one swoop, finding herself lying beneath them, her legs akimbo with their painted forearms planted on either side of her head. She would flush a deep embarrassing red and would be suddenly reminded that the make-up that she had painstakingly painted on earlier would have smudged, and out of a lifetime of shame she would pull both her hands up to cover her face. She would feel the panic kick in, the age-old words of _failure, stupid, ugly,_ but then she would hear that tempting chuckle and feel chapped lips leisurely press on the back of her hands.

_‘When I thought I’d be spending the night with my hand I didn’t see it going quite like this’_ they would jest, but it wouldn’t feel cruel. There would be an edge to their tone that said that they understood what she was doing. She would groan in embarrassment, but the initial panic would have subsided and instead she would peek one eye out from between her fingers. She’d ask in a muffled voice if she’d ruined the vibe and they would laugh and say _‘no, no, from where I’m sitting systems are all clear, Captain…’ _with a roll of their hips, and she would bring her hands away and laugh even as her body responded to their rhythm.

They would kiss her once on the tip of her nose before leaning down and mouthing at the juncture of her neck in a way that made her toes curl, a hint of teeth that would send sparks of energy into the pit of her stomach and push her to finally run her hands along their back. She would bring her hands down to pluck their shirt from their jeans and they would both groan at the feeling of skin-on-skin as she ran her fingertips and her nails up and down their sides.

One of their hands would creep up to tangle in her hair, their teeth still sucking love bites around her neck, and the other would sneak down to her thighs and push up her dress again. She would jump and clutch harder at their back, groaning as they boldly stroked between her legs. They would huff out a laugh and press a kiss to her cheek, would whisper ‘_fuck, you’re so fucking wet for me’_ as two of their fingertips would rub slow circles on the dainty cloth separating them. She would feel delicious heat start low in her abdomen, her thighs quaking as they brushed across her clit torturously slowly, and she would turn her face to find their lips again, kissing them again and again as they teased her.

‘_C-can I see you? I wanna see you…_’ she would mumble between kisses and gasps, her hands dragging out from underneath their shirt to grip at their collar in anticipation. They would nod their head fervently, a litany of _‘yes, yes’_ and _‘fuck, let me just-‘_ as their lips never parted for long, both of their hands scrabbling with the seemingly endless amount of buttons between them.

Her boi would pull back, sitting up to pull both their shirt and undershirt over their head as she would fumble with the zip of her own dress just under her armpit, sitting up slightly to shirk the material off her shoulders, accidentally bumping them in the side with her elbow as they both attempted to undress as quickly as possible.

She would be left in only her favourite underwear, a deep coral colour and lacy just as she liked, and they would be in their dark sports bra, and just as they loomed back over her she would catch a glimpse of their briefs. It would shock a breathy laugh out of her as they would look down and back at her in fake confusion, tilting their head to the side and saying _‘Ruh-roh…you don’t like Scooby Doo?’ _before leaning down and kissing the laughter straight out of her mouth.

Her hands would smooth over their tanned skin, pausing every so often to marvel at the slight pudge she would feel between her fingers, finally reaching down to grip at their ass. One of their own hands would curl around her breast, squeezing it just the way she liked. They would stop kissing her only to trail their mouth down to the valley between her breasts, smirking as their hand rolled her nipple between their thumb and index finger, and that warm swelling feeling would return to the pit of her stomach. She would gasp as they placed the other raised nub in their mouth, sucking and lightly teething at it.

_‘Oh fuck-‘_ she would moan, reaching up to clutch at her boi’s head as they bobbed over her, _‘shit-oh my god, please….’_

She would realise too late that she’d been the one pressing down, urging them down her body, but before she could apologise her boi would groan so low in their chest that she could feel the vibrations between where their bodies were touching, and they would pull off sharply to kiss down her chest, her stomach, shuffling around on the mussed-up sheets to kneel between her legs. Their hands would be cupping her thighs -_and she’d always been self-conscious about the jagged white marks that littered her skin, remnants of her bigger years and sadder times that she couldn’t shake with all the special oils in the world_\- and they’d press open mouthed kisses from her knees all the way down to the junction between her hip and her thigh. The spit would dry quickly and leave behind cold patches that made her shiver in anticipation, and finally they would nuzzle at the moist fabric between her legs, breathing in the musky scent.

They would loop their hands underneath her thighs to pinch at her pants, leaning back and rolling them down her outstretched legs, throwing them somewhere over their shoulder. They would quickly lean back in, eager to resume the position with nothing between them. She wouldn’t even have time to be embarrassed as they put their clever tongue to work, gliding between the wet folds and sucking lightly at the delicate skin they found there. Her thighs would begin shaking again as they sucked her clit into their mouth, rolling their tongue around it as her eyes began to cross, one of her hands clutching at their head as the other gripped at the pillow beneath her head.

They would hum in pleasure and the vibrations would shake her to the core. She would cry out ‘_o-oh fuck, oh my Christ, shit…_’ and nonsense phrases as they reached down to slowly work one finger up until their bruised knuckles inside of her, then another at seeing how loose she was, crooking them against the sensitive spots inside of her. Between the slow thrusting of their wicked fingers and the suction against her clit, tongue swirling deliciously over her, she wouldn’t be able to stop thrusting up into their talented mouth, riding the waves of sensation as they rolled into her. She would begin to feel that tell-tale throbbing in her pelvis, her body tingling with sharp electricity and the blood rushing to her face, and she would pry her eyes open to look down and see the vision before her.

Her boi would be moaning and breathing heavily through their nose, their mouth pulling off with a pop that left her whole body jumping in shock.

_‘Fuck you taste so good, sweetheart’_ they would mumble before putting their mouth back to business, their fingers thrusting into her faster and faster while their other hand went to their own boxers. Through the fabric she would see how their fingers circled their own clit, dipping down and up, repeating the loop in time with their tongue, and that would be it. She would be done for.

_‘Babe I-I’m gonna…fuck, I can’t… oh…’_ she would gasp out, throwing her head back hard against the pillow as they worked at her unrelentingly. Her teeth would be biting at the side of her fingers, slowly losing the battle to keep the embarrassing noises inside of her. Her other hand would be gripping at that short hair, stroking and pushing in intervals, revelling in its softness. That pressure would build up inside her as they would hit every spot that she had, and she would feel herself about to tumble over the precipice of desire.

Everything would feel like it was too much, not enough, her mind would spin and just as she would think it couldn’t get any better her boi would suck hard and moan even harder, and her body would light up in devastating pleasure. She would lock up in place, the hand in her mouth whipping out to slap at the headboard and claw at the sheets around her, hips thrusting up into that glorious mouth as her body shook and she cried out ‘_fuckfuckfuck fuuuuuckkk_….’.

They would keep going at her, sucking and thrusting until her chest heaved and tears would spring to her eyes as she was overwhelmed by sensation, the line between pleasure and pain blurring and tripping over itself. Just as she would think it was too much, that she would die from how much she was feeling and how little she could breathe with her hitching lungs, they would let out one long moan, the hand in their briefs making jerky movements as they came. Their sinful mouth would finally release her clit to turn and bite at her thigh, their eyes scrunched up and their brows furrowed in pleasure.

There would be the heavy scent of sex and musk in the air as their breathing tried its best to stabilize, and her boi would groan and lean their forehead on her bellybutton, their body crumbling into that post-orgasmic slump. With what little strength she could muster, she would pull them up to lie next to her, taking the time to kiss them and lazily explore the mixture of tastes on their tongue.

They would lie side-by-side facing one another, their eyes hooded and smiling lazily in the aftermath of their love-making. She would reach out and cup their cheek, stroking over a small scar on the curve of their jaw.

_‘I hope you still don’t think you killed the vibe …_’ they would mumble sleepily, but they would turn and press a kiss to the palm of her hand as she let out of a huff of laughter before guiding her face into their chest. They would wrap their arms around her as she nuzzled at the damp fabric, her own arm slipping down to lie across their stomach.

She wouldn’t care about how clammy their skin felt together, but with the sweat cooling off too quickly for her liking in their naked state she would disentangle herself only briefly to pull the covers up around them from where they’d fallen on the floor. She would settle herself back into those strong arms with the dark swirling shapes, blissed out and beyond happy, and finally follow her boi into oblivion.


End file.
